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I was abused by my grandad between the ages of 5 until I was 10, when he died……

Categories - Survivor Stories

My Story May 2020

I was abused by my Grandad between the ages of 5 until I was 10, when he died.   It was sexual abuse and a lot of mental abuse dealing with it has been so hard and a very long road.

I was first abused sexually after school  in my garden.  I came home from school really excited to see my Nan and Grandad.  When I got home my dad and Grandad were out together, I waited at the front window for them to come home.  When I saw them walking down the road I ran and jumped into my Grandads arms, I was so pleased to see him.  We went into the back garden to play cricket, my Grandad got me out so I asked for another turn in bat, he said “if I gave him a special kiss” so we carried on playing.  When we finished he took me into the wendy house in the garden, he said that it wasn’t private enough so he took me down the side of the house behind a shed.  He picked me up and he put his hands down my knickers and forced his fingers inside me, it was really painful.  He kept forcing my hand down his pants and making me rub his willy it was hard and big.  I kept trying to struggle out of his grip but he wouldn’t let me down.

He kept saying in my ear ‘does this feel good, are you enjoying this, this is what special Grandads do, but not because I like it, its for you, you like it’.  He was saying that it is our special little secret and if anybody found out I would be in trouble.

When I finally got away from him I ran to my bedroom and cried, he followed me into my room and asked me what was the matter, I said nothing was wrong and he said ‘Good’ don’t you ever cry again then.

I was bleeding, scared and hurting.  That day my life changed and won’t ever be the same again.  It has damaged me.

When my brain stopped blocking out that I had been abused, that was my first memory of abuse.

I don’t remember a life without abuse, but I wish so much and grieve for a childhood.  That isn’t a privilege, it is something we should all be able to have.

When I was raped, I didn’t know what that meant.  It was around Christmas time because he used to tell me that I wouldn’t get Christmas presents,  then everybody would know that I had been a naughty girl.  My brother and sisters would have Santa coming to them, but I wouldn’t.

I was raped once by him.  I felt lucky that it was only once until my therapist told me that there isn’t anything lucky about being raped.

I was at my Nan and Grandads house, it was just me there along with those two.  My Grandad told my Nan to go round to the shops.  I knew then that if he got her out of the house then it was going to be bad.  He always had a certain look on his face when he was going to abuse me.  She went out and he locked me in the living room.  I was aged 9, just about to have the worst pain imaginable.

He told me to get on the sofa, he pulled my trousers and kickers down he took his pants down and laid on me.  I could feel his erect willy up against the top of my leg.  He forced his willy inside me, it wasn’t going but he kept forcing it until it eventually went in.  He kept pushing it in and groaning in my ear.  He was getting harder and harder and louder and louder until eventually it was over, white sticky stuff was over my legs.  I wanted to cry in pain, but knew I couldn’t.  I just laid there focussing on the Christmas decorations until it was over.

After it was over I was bleeding and in a great deal of pain.  He told me to throw my knickers away and never tell anybody what had just happened.

I was so confused, I hated what had just happened, I didn’t want it, but he told me I did want it and never to tell anybody.

School was my way of getting away, but I was never away from the fear it came to school with me.  When we had PE and we had to get changed I was worried in case I had been bleeding, because I was throbbing down below a lot  I used to be scared that there would be blood in my knickers and a teacher would notice and I would be in trouble.

I was also scared that my Grandad would be at the school gates picking me up.  As soon as I saw him there my heart sank.  I knew I would be abused when I got home.

I used to get home, run upstairs and quickly get changed into jeans that made it a little bit harder for him to put his fingers inside me.  If I still have my school dress on he could, and did a lot pull my knickers to one side and put his fingers inside me.

Some other times I would come home from school and he would be in my bedroom.  I would walk in my room and he would be lying on the bed rubbing himself, making his willy hard ready to make me rub it or suck it.  I hated it so much and wanted to be safe.

He eventually gets what he wants and the white sticky smelly stuff shoots out in my mouth, I try not to cry.  When it is all over my Nan comes in with a soft boiled egg and I have to eat it and pretend nothing happened.  I hurt, I’m sad, I want to wash my mouth, but instead I have to eat a runny egg with that horrible taste of my Grandad in my mouth.  Then I leave, back to my other Nan and Grandads having to pretend everything is ok.

I just want to play out like all the other kids on the estate.

I spent a lot of years blaming myself and beating myself up about going round my Nan and Grandads house, I thought If I didn’t go there then I wouldn’t have been abused, so maybe it was my fault, maybe  I asked for it, maybe even he was right and I should have been enjoying it.  So many things went through my head, I deserved and asked for it because I put myself there.  It took a lot of years to realise that I didn’t have a choice and if I refused then somebody would ask why.

I could be walking down the balcony to their front door and trying to prepare myself for what will happen, but I couldn’t ever prepare myself.

One of the regular ways he would go about abusing me would be to tell my Nan to go in the kitchen and make me a boiled egg.  She would go out of the living room and shut the door behind her, when I saw the door close I knew it was time, he would have a certain look on his face.  He would undo his trousers and get his willy out, grab my hand and make me stroke it until it gets hard, whilst he is also putting his fingers inside me.  He gets his willy and forces into my mouth and grabbing the back of my head forcing me to suck it, he is groaning and i’m trying not to gag or I get told off.

I wish I knew how it felt to be a child, to be free and not to worry about anything.  They say you don’t miss what you never had, but I for sure miss not having a childhood.

I want to be like the rest of my cousins I don’t want this and never did.  I wanted holidays without him, I wanted a break and I still do.

When it was school holidays the kids in school were really pleased, but for me I knew it meant more abuse, more fear and more hiding from pain from my parents.  We used to go about and away in England with my Nan and Grandad.  When we went away in England all of my family used to go, about 50 of us.  There wasn’t an escape to the abuse, he would lock me in his caravan and abuse me.

I would be on the caravan site playing with my cousins and he would call me into his caravan, put me on the floor, take his clothes off and put his willy in my mouth, whilst putting his fingers inside me.  I used to focus on the little roof window in the caravan until he was done, white sticky stuff over my face, feeling very sore down below and he would say, wash your face and don’t tell anybody.

The whole time I can hear my cousins still out playing.

Going abroad one year, the day before we went, my uncle died suddenly the holiday was put off and I was quite pleased because I thought less abuse when we found out about my uncle.  My mum and dad were so upset , so my Grandad took advantage of that.  He got me on his lap, in my parents living room with my Nan sitting next to him.  He put his fingers inside me whilst forcing my hand down his pants.  I sat there crying and I could get away with crying because my uncle had just died. He said to me that night ‘in the morning come into my room don’t disturb your mum and dad, me and Nan will look after you’ so I did that and in the morning the same thing happened in bed next to my Nan.

I was 8 years old.

Being scared all the time meant had terrible nightmares which led me to wetting the bed almost every night.  I would wake up soaking wet and scared and I knew I had to go tell my mum in the middle of the night, but my dad used to get angry about it and I used to get upset for making my dad angry.  He would say to my mum ‘leave her let her lie in it, she will soon learn’.

It was horrible and I used to so desperately want to tell him it was because I am scared, but I couldn’t because I was scared what might happen.

I remember going on a school trip in year 6, this was not long after my Grandad died and I wet the bed every night because the school trip was in Dorset and thats where he died.  It was where I last saw him so I thought he was going to come back.  I kept having nightmares about it and wetting the bed.  I was so embarrassed, even though nobody knew.  I couldn’t tell a teacher so I would get up and make my bed, it was still wet when I got back in it at night.

It was so horrible and I just wanted somebody to take the fear away.

My mum and dad would sometimes go away for the weekend, my Nan and Grandad would stay at my house to look after us.  I used to cry and beg my mum not to leave me, but I couldn’t tell her the reason why, I just had to say that I would miss them.  I would sit in the window and watch them drive away, my heart sank and the tears would flow and fears rose.

As my Nan knew about the abuse there was nobody to protect me at all.  I can always remember when he was looking after us, he would take the opportunity to bath me, he would get the bar of soap and wash me, but put his fingers inside me and make me suck his willy.  I would also wake up to him in my bed abusing me.  I couldn’t do anything to get away from him.

He used to tell my mum that he was going for a lie down because the tablets he was on made him sleepy, or he would say he was going to the toilet and read the newspaper.  My heart sank, I got the look that meant I had to go upstairs and be abused.  Nobody bothered him if he was supposed to be sleeping.  He would mention if I had to do any homework and that had to be my reason to go upstairs.  When I started going up the stairs he would call me into his bedroom, he would take all his clothes off and make me stroke his willy until he was hard and he was putting his fingers inside me.  When his willy was hard enough he made me suck it.  It used to make me gag, but he would tell me off or be rougher with me when I gag.  Then it would be over when he came , tell me to go do my homework and don’t tell anybody what just happened.

I would be sitting there trying to do my homework with the taste of my Grandads willy in my mouth.

I was hurt and sore, but I had to go do my school work, to pretend everything was normal – but it wasn’t, it isn’t and these memories will haunt me forever …….

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